Mister West by R.J. Lewis (animal farm read .TXT) 📕

seethes; it’s another round of fuck this shit and fuck that cunt repeatedly. My hands shake a little, and I ball them into fists. Why do I care so much about upsetting him? He makes plans without even consulting me about them. Why can’t I do the goddamn same?

“Ana wanted to grab dinner with me too,” I find myself saying. It comes out of nowhere, and I feel a bolt of panic tear through my being. I think this is my first ever blatant lie I have ever told him since coming back, and I tense, waiting for him to notice it.

Instead, he nods, never looking away from his television. He’s calmed down once he’s killed the ‘gamer-cunt’. “Alright, darling. I’ll see you tonight when we get back from our things, right?”

I nod slowly, part of me angry that he doesn’t pick up on my lie, another part relieved. “I told her no.”

“You shouldn’t have, darling.”

“How long do you think you’ll be out?”

“I’m not sure. You know how it is with the boys.”

I don’t respond. I stare once more at the puddle of beer seeping into the rug before I turn away and move slowly into the bathroom. I sit down on the toilet seat and breathe for a few minutes. If I went to see Aidan, he would never know.

But as I look back down at Aidan’s message, I don’t respond. Because at the end of the day I’m scared. I’ve lived a certain way for eight years, and I’m afraid of breaking that cycle.

So, around and around I go.

Eleven

Ivy

Derek’s been gone five hours, and he hasn’t been picking up my phone calls or looked at my messages. I've let him know a few times we are short on money and not to blow it tonight. With every fiber of my being, I continue to resist looking up Aidan West. When I’m alone like this, he feels distant from me, like he’s still not entirely real.

I end up alone on the couch, scrolling through my Facebook wall, reading the endless happy statuses from friends I grew up with. Friends that ended up with partners they appear to be happy with. One of them has just had a baby, and the image of her beautiful newborn sends a fissure to my soul.

I throw my phone down and pace the small apartment. I make myself another mug of soup. I down it while looking out my window and up at the evening sky, wondering what life would have been like if my baby hadn’t died. If I had been able to carry her a little bit longer…

Then I pace the apartment again and end up going through an entire toilet roll crying. I pass that blue shoebox sitting in my dresser drawer and my body is urging me to grab it, but i don't. I won't. I leave my bedroom try and sit back down on the couch, but the smell of the beer in the rug permeates the air, and I pace again, determined not to clean it. That’s his mess, and I’m tired of cleaning up after his messes!

I’m losing my shit.

And I’m once again back to being negative.

Who is this girl? I ask myself this out loud so many times.

“Who are you, Ivy?” I whisper. “This isn’t you. You’re not you. I miss you.”

At one point, I think I’m going to have a panic attack, and then a chime sounds out. I desperately race to the phone like it’s my salvation and open up the message that’s waiting for me. My heart takes a nosedive when I find it’s not from Aidan, but from an old friend asking me how I’m going. While it’s nice she is reaching out, it’s not the person I want to talk to.

I glance at the clock. It’s eight at night, probably way too late for that dinner request. Still, I’m feeling lonely and unstable. Derek won’t be back until midnight minimum, and I don’t want to be around him if he’s drunk anyway. I find myself reading my conversation with Aidan over and over again before my fingers start moving on their own accord.

Did you still want that dinner?

To my surprise, he responds straightaway. I had dinner an hour ago. How about dessert?

I pause and think of what we could do. I really don’t care, to be honest. I just want to see him, and the excitement that buzzes through me feels so foreign, it’s like a rush.

I respond back, my fingers feverishly pressing down on the letters. Ice cream? There’s a nice spot I know.

Ice cream it is. Tell me the place.

I smile and tell him the name and he responds that he’ll be there in thirty minutes. My heart races. I put the phone down and run into the bathroom. I quickly wash my face and re-apply my make-up. I don’t stop to think that this is wrong, that I might not be ready, that I’m not doing the right thing by my mother or Derek. Honestly, he’s out there drinking his night away, so why should he get to enjoy himself and I have to be stuck here? Fuck my mother’s words. I am making this decision. I am going to step out of my comfort zone because I know I can. I have it in me, and if I’m not good enough for Aidan West, that’s fine.

I change into jean shorts and a shirt, and then I grab my key and leave the apartment.

It’s still light out, but it’s dimming. The heat is strong but bearable with the faint breeze. The ice cream parlor is three blocks away from me, and it’s a cute little place with a couple dark patio tables out front. We’d be out in the open and around plenty of people, which is exactly what I would need in the presence of a man like Aidan.

Oh, my God, am I actually doing this?

Oh, my God, I am.

I’m going